Free
by TwistedFics-Snippets
Summary: No one fully understood the ramifications that came with Chris coming back to save Wyatt. Sadly, they appeared to be much worse than anyone could fathom.


**Warnings : Major Character Death. Speakings of Anxiety and symtoms that collate to Auditory Schizophrenia. Slight speaking of self-harm. And mentions of Panic Attacks.**

 **Please Read At Your Comfort**

No one could fully understand the ramifications of Chris returning to the past to save his older brother, nor the effect it would have on the current Chris of his other life dying as he was born. They seemingly thought that everything would be fine. That the Chris that returned to the past would merely drift away into memories and their Chris would be fine.

And for years it seemingly was like that. He was happy and carefree. He laughed and learned just like his older brother and younger cousins. Piper and Leo were overjoyed to have two well-behaved boys that loved and cared for each other.

It all changed, however, when Chris hit puberty.

At first they just thought it was the typical teenage stuff. Mood swings. General snappy attitude. Leo and Piper didn't think much of it. Wyatt went through the same thing when he hit that age so they just assumed that Chris was going through it as well.

Only Wyatt knew what was truly going on within his brother's head.

Constantly, broken thoughts of another man would interrupt his own. Fear would erupt from his soul for seemingly no reason. Panic would make him hyperventilate and his heartbeat race.

It was heartbreaking to his brother huddled in the corner sobbing, his hands curled into his russet brown hair as he tried to hang on to his last string of sanity.

When Chris was fifteen, Wyatt couldn't do it anymore. As much as it hurt him, he came to his parents, begging for their help. That night, without Chris's knowledge, they watched as he paced his bedroom. He anxiously tapped his fingers against his forearms or leg and mutter to himself. He would flinch at nothing.

Piper and Leo's tears finally fell when they hear their youngest son beg for it to stop.

Therapy and medication overtook Chris's life for the next three years.

Mortal cures however did nothing for a supernatural affliction.

Chris's eighteenth birthday was a quiet one. Wyatt walked up the stairs, hoping to greet his brother with a warm "Happy Birthday" and with a small present. Gently, Wyatt knocked on the door and opened it a few seconds later when no answer came. The hope of a good birthday went out the window when he saw his brother's head cradled in his hands.

Wyatt sat beside his brother on the bed, present set aside. No words needed to be said. It was going to be a bad day. The voices weren't leaving him alone or his anxiety was flaring. Either way his brother was barely holding on. Closing his eyes, Wyatt gathered his brother close wishing he could take his brother's pain away.

The chaotic thoughts would burden Chris until his twenty-third birthday. On that day, Wyatt awoke to his phone ringing. He picked it up lethargically. Within seconds, he was up and dressed and orbing to an alley close by San Francisco General Hospital.

Early that morning, his younger brother had suffered a grand mal seizure after a series of severe panic attacks. His mother explained to him through tears that Chris was acting weird for the past few days before he locked himself in his bedroom the day before his birthday. The loud thud of his body hitting the floor was what awoke Piper and she found her baby boy seizuring on the floor as blood flowed from his scratched arms.

Wyatt knew no mortal answer would come from the hospital. They knew whatever was affect Chris was magical and that nothing could be done with mortal drugs besides the scratches. He was stabilized rather quickly and was released days later.

Chris spoke to no one. He zoomed straight up to his bedroom and closed the door. Wyatt frowned; but, his mother told him not to press his brother. He was obviously working through something and Piper didn't want to spark his anxiety any worse than it already was.

Wyatt stayed that night, sleeping on the couch. He slept lightly and woke up when he felt a presence walk into the living room. Opening his eyes, his met Chris's exhausted green eyes.

"Kit?" Wyatt whispered.

Chris didn't acknowledge his childhood nickname nor said anything to him. He sat down in front of Wyatt's prone body and managed to fit his lithe body on the thin sliver of couch that was left. Wyatt's brows furrowed but he didn't question his brother's bizarre actions. He merely laid back down and wrapped an arm around Chris's waist. "You okay, Kit?"

Chris nodded and Wyatt let out a breath. "Want to talk?"

"No,"

"Okay. Sleep?"

"...No."

Wyatt licked his lips. "...Okay? I need something here, Kit. What do you need?"

"It's quiet."

"They're?"

"The voice. It's quiet." Chris whispered, "It's gone."

Wyatt felt Chris take in a shaky breath. Leaning up, Wyatt looked at his brother. "Chris?"

Watery green eyes peered up at him. "It's gone, Wy. It's gone."

Wyatt wanted to point out that Chris has had moments of silence before. That the voice didn't always speak to him. Those were Chris's good days. As he grew older, they became less frequent as Chris grew older.

Wyatt pulled his brother closer. "For good?" Wyatt whispered.

When he felt Chris nod, Wyatt broke down.

His brother was free. After ten long years, his brother was free.

Feeling shaky fingers curl around his arm, Wyatt looked up. Chris was looking over his shoulder at him. "What's up, Kit."

"I'm sorry." Chris whispered, "I know it's been hell on you. Mom and Dad too." The guilt was thick within Chris's words.

Wyatt smiled sadly, "I'll do it all again too Chris if I had to. You're my brother."

Chris chuckled softly, "Thank you."

Leaning slightly, Wyatt pressed dried lips to Chris's forehead. "Go to sleep, Kit. You need it."

He waited until he felt the steady breathing of his brother before Wyatt allowed himself to fall asleep.

He awoke to a shrill scream. His brother was gone from his arms. He ran up the stairs where he heard his mother yell. Tears greeted him and as he peered through the threshold, surprise and grief gripped his art.

Laying on the bed was Chris. Not breathing. Eyes glazed over. Dead.


End file.
